


Of Lyres and Feathers

by VerdantMoth



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Fluff and Crack, Getting Together, M/M, Valentine's Day, Valentine's Day Fluff, Wooing, lyre
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-23
Updated: 2018-01-23
Packaged: 2019-08-23 05:16:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16612613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VerdantMoth/pseuds/VerdantMoth
Summary: Arthur tries to woo Merlin with feathers and a lyre.





	Of Lyres and Feathers

 

"Dammit, Merlin, I'm trying to be romantic here," said Arthur, holding a lute in his hand, and covered from head to toe in chicken feathers.

The thing is, Merlin doesn’t mean to cackle the way he does, hunched over and tears streaming. He can’t breath and his chest aches, and he is starting to sound a bit like a dog’s chew-toy with the squeaking, but when Arthur had texted him to meet behind the old chicken coop Merlin had expected something well… different.

Having his face shoved in bird excrement, having Arthur and his bawdy band of brothers pants him. Perhaps even a quick little dirty roll-a-bout. Really, he’d expected anything but Arthur, head of student council and media prince, to be standing starker save for the mess of white feathers and a cheap fake gold instrument.

“No, really, you’re,” he tries to straighten, legs a bit crossed and wobbly. “Feather’s, Arthur?”

The blond scowls idly scratching at his belly where some of them have begun to peel off, leaving behind a red, flakey looking patch of skin. “Well I wasn’t going to buy glittery angel wings and I am allergic to peacocks.”

Merlin falls over this time and he’s almost positive he’s peed himself just a little. “Where- ahh. Where did you,” he snorts, and takes a few deep breaths of air, wiping sweat and salt off his cheeks. “Where did you even find that many feathers?”

Arthur huffs and crosses his arms, hoping Merlin attributes the red in his cheeks to a reaction to the glue. “Stole ‘em from the Art Center. They’ve got that quilting thing going on this month.”

Merlin takes a moment, there on the ground with the smell of a thousand chickens and dirt, to collect himself. He carefully sits up ruffles his hair, trying to rid it of the grass and sand, while maintaining some kind of order despite the wind. “Can you even play a lyre?”

Arthur scoffs. “No, Merlin. Don’t believe anyone can.”

“Freya can.” Merlin stands up and begins plucking feathers from Arthur’s shoulders and back, carefully avoiding any less neutral spaces. Arthur scowls and snaps his teeth at him, but doesn’t move away or offer to help.

“Tell me, Arthur, what on earth inspired this… romantic display?” He’s carefully pulling the feathers from Arthur’s neck, his jaw, and he doesn’t miss the way his throat bobs beneath his hands. Arthur scowls harder and digs his toes into the hard dirt.

He refuses to look up, scratching feathers off his chest. “It’s Valentine’s Day, Merlin. People do romantic things around this time.”

Merlin nods sagely and steps back, now that Arthur’s upper half is feather free and a little warm looking. “This is true, but uh, usually they do it for… you know, significant others?”

Arthur throws his hands in the air and then moves to yank the feathers off his legs, pulling so hard in some places that he breaks the skin. “See, I know that Merlin, as I wasn’t raised in backwaters nowhere. But I also know that when two people are decidedly single, and clearly have a connection that they’re both a little cautious about, that a holiday like to day is the perfect day for the braver of the pair to swoop in and woo the more delicate in a grand display of, of,” Arthur huffs and arches around to try and pull the feathers from his butt.

Merlin is only just noticing the truly tragic pair of nude panties he’s sporting, probably to spare his dignity, and it takes everything in him not to burst into laughter again. He studies Arthur for a moment, noticing the pout of his, frankly obnoxiously plump and utterly bitable lips, and then steps close and stars Arthur in the eyes as he reaches back to pinch feathers off the plump ass.

“So. What I am hearing is that you snuck into Gwen and Morgana’s art center to steal at least one bag of feathers and some skin-adhesive, probably begged Leon for his cheapest instrument, forced Percival to paint it gold, bribed Lancelot and Elyan to help you glue feathers over most of your body, and paid Gwaine to annoy me all day so I’d be convinced to meet you in the smelliest of places, all because you wanted to kiss me?”

“No.” Arthur grumbles, but he’s biting his cheek the way he does when he is flustered.

Merlin crosses his arms and studies him for a long time before he throws his hands in the air and yanks Arthur forward. Their lips meet in a slightly painful crashing of teeth, and Arthur is grinning so hard that it is less of a kiss and more of an unfortunate tangling of breaths, but then they’re both laughing.

“You great dolt! You could have just asked me for a date like a normal and sane person!”

Arthur rolls his eyes and hooks his hands into Merlin’s nest of hair. “Don’t be silly Merls. You’d be bored if I did that.”

Merlin laughs, but doesn’t disagree. There’s a sudden shuttering sound and a lot of laughter that has Merlin burying his face in his hands. Arthur, unashamed, simply rolls his eyes. “And besides, I didn’t have to pay anyone. Just promised them some pictures.”

 


End file.
